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Today is my Granny’s birthday. And her death day. Last year, on this day, she left her body on this earth, after managing to make it (just and no more) to the grand old age of 88. Like other distressing events, such as 9/11 or the news that Michael Jackson had died, I’ll never forget where I was when I found out. It was completely unexpected. I was on a shoot with work, staying alone in a hotel in London. I had an early start ahead of me and my alarm was set for 6.30am. When I awoke to the sound of my phone ringing my first feeling was that of panic, I assumed I must have slept in for my shoot. After I managed to focus my bleary morning eyes on the screen, I realized it was my Mum calling. Before 6.30am. My initial feeling of panic manifested itself in a sinking lurch in my stomach. Of course I knew straightaway something was wrong. My Mum would never call me at that ridiculous time. Nobody would, unless it was a Sunday and some of my friends were still up, having life changing discussions after a particularly heavy night out.

For a split second, I thought about not answering, knowing deep down that something terrible had happened and wanting to protect myself from whatever news was about to be bestowed upon me. Honestly, I didn’t expect that it would be about my Granny. Despite being 87 years old and having taken a bit of a downturn with her dementia recently, I still thought of her as being the strong willed, hilarious, lively woman, full of life and a passion for fashion, that she’d always been. Of course, she was absolutely still this woman but perhaps with me living in Glasgow, being very busy with work and my selfish twenty-something life, I had missed how bad her dementia had got and turned a bit of a blind eye to the decline in her general health. I have a tendency to bury my head in the sand and pretend nothing is happening when it comes to things like that. Now, as so often is the way in this life, I wish that I had confronted the facts at hand and made the effort to go and visit her more often than I did, while I still had the chance. That’s not a nice feeling to address.

So, as I write, around this time, a year ago, I answered that phone call from my Mum. I immediately asked what was wrong and after a brief pause she just came right out and said it. “Granny died last night.” She had a stroke and it would have been fairly instantaneous with little or no pain, she reassured me.

They were words I hadn’t expected to hear for AT LEAST another five years and it took my brain a few minutes to process the information. I didn’t even cry at first. My throat ached and my head spun but I couldn’t quite translate these feelings in to physical tears. Embarrassingly, it wasn’t until I was leaving a voicemail for my boss, letting her know that I wouldn’t be able to make it to work that day, that the sadness was able to express itself in physical form. The tears started to flow and once the floodgate had opened I couldn’t stop. I can’t remember if I even made it to the end of my message but my work were completely lovely about the whole situation and arranged to get me on to the next flight back to Scotland.

Strangely, while on the Heathrow Express going to the airport, I ended up sitting across from a tiny, elderly lady who was sobbing uncontrollably, in complete silence. She looked heart-breakingly sad and usually, I would have been compelled to ask what was wrong and tried to comfort her. But on this same day last year, the tiny, upset lady and I sat across from one another in simultaneous silent tears, with only a brief single glance of understanding exchanged between us. I hoped she was OK but in a strange way, I felt that we comforted one another a little with our mutual sadness.

So, that’s how I spent this day last year.

This is a travel blog, you may be thinking. Where does the travel part come in? Well, one thing that makes me swell with pride when I think about my Granny, is how much she loved to travel. Alongside poppies, fashion and my Grandad Arthur, it was one of her long-term loves. At just the age of 28, her and my Grandad (30 at the time) packed up their lives, including a two year old Joyce (with a baby Bette soon to be on the way), and moved over to New York where they lived and worked for a total of five years. Back in the 50s, this was a completely unheard of thing for a couple of twenty-something’s from the small town of Brechin, Scotland to do. But they went and they did it. They defied the odds in pursuit of adventure, something they both sought out their whole life.

My Mum Bette and Auntie Joyce in New York

Grandad and Auntie Joyce in New York

Throughout both my Granny and Grandad’s lives, they traveled a lot. A lot by anyone’s standards but particularly so for their generation, when it was still considered wildly exotic to cross the border in to North England for your honeymoon.

From the legendary road trip from Scotland to Majorca with five children, ranging from 3 months old to 13, crammed in to the back of a tiny Hillman Minx; to the round the world trip they took upon retirement which saw them conquer New York, LA, Hawaii, New Zealand, Australia, Fiji and Singapore; to everything else that came in between, their passion to see the world and everything in it was nothing short of inspirational.

Road trip to Majorca in the Hillman Minx!

Some of the other countries that they travelled to (the ones I am aware of) included France, Spain, Portugal, Mexico, Holland, Austria, Turkey, Egypt, Florida, Canada and the Caribbean, where they indulged in a fantastic cruise, worthy of a place on any self-respecting bucket list. My Grandad also saw a lot of the world during the Second World War, when he was placed on various ships in the Mediterranean and spent time in South Africa. Playing in the forces football team, he would often travel wherever the team was summoned for matches. He was once almost adopted by a South African, department-store owning, couple and I’m pretty sure he probably came close to adopting a couple of African children himself (that postcard is another story….).

Yes, it’s certainly fair to say that neither of them were ever short of a story or two. Their passion for travel and zest for life is something that will never be forgotten by me, my family or anyone who knew them.

What I’m trying to say is that, although I’m over here in Vietnam, while the rest of my family goes out for a celebratory happy birthday meal, I feel as close to my Granny as I ever could. As much as I wish I could join them and raise a glass of Baileys in memory of her genuinely inspiring life, I know, more than anyone else I have ever met, she would understand the need for adventure and my desire to travel. I just wish that she could have been here to hear my stories. I can only hope that they will live up to hers.

Happy Birthday Granny. I hope you guys are having the biggest adventure yet up there.

On the beach

Road trip!

Family camping trip

Holidays

New York

Granny with Mum and Joyce

Despite the ever present passion for travel, she was always a huge part of all her grandchildren’s lives! (That’s me playing it cool back right!)

Homesickness (noun): experiencing a longing for one’s home during a period of absence from it.

Ask any expat in Vietnam whether they have ever experienced homesickness during their time here and, for the majority, the answer will be a resounding ‘yes’. The degree as to which individuals have been affected by this affliction, of course, varies greatly but it is something that most expats can relate to on some level.

Moving to Vietnam, I suffered from fairly severe homesickness. After travelling round South East Asia without so much as a backwards glance to the UK, it was upon settling in Hanoi that the longing for home soil hit me. Hard. Setting up a whole new life anywhere is a hugely daunting prospect and when in the context of such an alien environment, it can quickly escalate to a stressful situation. The intimidating language barrier, questionable local customs, down-right terrifying traffic and unfamiliar menus can quickly leave the hardiest of expats feeling overwhelmed and disgruntled. For most, over time these feelings mutate, fluctuate and progress through a series of highs and lows.

By definition, the very nature of homesickness is caused by spending time away from wherever you consider to be ‘home’. Therefore, while it cannot always be completely attributed to the environment of your host country, the two are closely linked. In Vietnam, a country evoking strong reactions from many, it stands to reason that homesickness can be related to the culture shock that many experience here. It is harder than, for example, relocating to Australia or a similarly Westernized country.

There are said to be four stages of homesickness.

Vietnam Traffic

The Honeymoon Period

As a new arrival in Vietnam, the initial feelings are those of euphoria. I felt as though I was part of a cheesy 80s movie montage, spinning around, eyes agog, mouth agape, soaking up the sights and sounds of the markets, hawkers, rickhaws and continual flurry of street life unfolding in front of me. Everything is exciting and during this phase, you generally feel a sense of wonder and intrigue for your new surroundings. ‘You have to walk on the road because pavements are used for motorbikes?! What a novelty! Oh Vietnam, you are funny.’

Irritation and Hostility

After a few setbacks these initial feelings of wonder soon turn to frustration and you become aggravated by the very same things which intrigued you at first. ‘Is it too much to ask to be able to walk down the street on a bloody pavement?!’ Near death experiences are no longer a novelty but frequent and frightening. This is often the worst stage of culture shock and often during this phase, expats will question their choice of moving to this new and alien environment. Whether a fleeting thought or a serious consideration, it has probably crossed most of our minds at some point or other when having a particularly difficult day in Vietnam.

Gradual Adjustment

This stage of the homesickness phenomena usually lasts the longest (hence the gradual part). Over time, you are able to control any underlying feelings of frustration felt towards the locals, other expats and the particularly irritating banking system. You start to accept your host county and feel guilty when feelings of resentment creep in. (‘None of us will ever be OK with the spitting but, well, the air quality is pretty bad so it’s kind of understandable, right?’) Fortunately for us, many factors assist the progression of this transitional phase. The wide-spread availability of free wifi means that keeping in touch with home couldn’t be easier. The internet also plays a huge role in the formation of expat circles and meet-up groups with foreigners and locals alike, allowing you to create groups of friends quickly.

Adaption and Biculturalism

While it is very rare that an expat will ever completely assimilate to living in Vietnam, this stage of homesickness sees you adjust to the culture and view it as ‘home’. Having managed to pick up some ‘Tieng Viet’ you can now bargain at your local market without offending anyone and, in fact, you have a vendor who you know will give you a fair price. It is now that you can appreciate the quality of your new lifestyle and feel warmth towards the country and the people hosting you. That said, certain things most likely continue to frustrate and perplex on a daily basis. The difference is, you now feel entitled to these opinions in the same way you would your home country.

A fifth stage that sometimes rears its head unexpectedly is that of reverse culture shock upon returning to your home country. You feel yourself yearning for the parts of your daily routine abroad that once got on your nerves. You almost get run over every time you cross the road using the South East Asian traffic stopping hand wave. (To be clear, this DOES NOT work in Glasgow. I have tried.) People stare upon taking your shoes off to go in to the local supermarket. The accepted custom of shouting ‘Oi!’ to attract the attention of a staff member in a restaurant is frowned upon. The feelings of longing that you once felt for your homeland are reversed. And it’s confusing.

I’m leaving at the end of the year. When I tell my expat friends they unfailingly ask me when I’m coming back. Every time. When I tell them the truth, which is that I have no plans to return, they all smile knowingly as if to say, ‘you’ll be back’. Maybe they are right. I can’t help but wonder what it is about this country, and its ability to evoke such strong reactions in people, that holds them here and entices them back, just when they thought they had enough?

The following incident took place a few weeks ago. I am only just recovering from the humiliation and so, it has taken me this long to post the story that I wrote some time ago. Enjoy.

Standard bicycle scene in Hanoi… Taken from the back of our motorbike

Living in Hanoi teaching English, it is considered something of a crime not to drive a motorbike. A failing almost. Everyone has one. Seriously, everyone. It is just part of essential everyday life here, with the public transport system being practically non-existent and very difficult to figure out for non-Vietnamese. Truthfully, I’m too scared (don’t judge me). I will happily ride around as a passenger on the back of John’s Yamaha and have actually given it a try myself but I really don’t feel great about driving a motorbike with no insurance in the crazy traffic. I have resolutely stuck to my bicycle since I arrived here, stubbornly denying claims that it is too hot to cycle to work in the heat of Hanoi’s summer. The sweltering temperatures, combined with the fact that I generally have to wear smart black trousers, means that I consistently arrive to work clad in a suit of sweat. Lovely. Attempting to try and aid the airflow a little, I wore a loose, long flowing maxi-dress to work the other day. While aware that it wasn’t really appropriate cycling attire, I decided that minimizing my intolerable sweat situation was more important.

Mistake number one.

I was soon to find out that bicycles can, in fact, be even more dangerous than motorbikes.

As I cycled home from work that day, I was enjoying an unusual breeze as my dress floated around my legs in the light wind. Just as I thought to myself what a welcome respite this was from the usual stifling heat of my smart trousers, I heard a huge ripping sound and my bike began to skid to a stop. My dress had become caught in the back wheel of my bike. It felt like slow motion but in an instant my dress ripped right off from the waist down, causing me to topple off of my bike, on to the ground with only my underwear protecting my modesty. Kneeling at the side of the road, practically half naked, trying to untangle my dress from the wheel, a Vietnamese man stopped to help me.

Although touched by his kindness, I was far too embarrassed and over-exposed to want any help so I attempted to wave him away politely. He persisted in untangling the remains of my dress and, politeness prevailing, I let him.

Mistake number two.

Obviously encouraged by me allowing him to assist with the situation, he started rubbing my arm and gesturing wildly at me. Confused, it took me a moment to grasp what he was trying to say but I was soon able to work out what he was asking me. Wait for it…

He was asking if I would perform oral sex on him – FOR MONEY- all conveyed through the power of sign language.

Wow.

What was he thinking? He saw me topple off my bike. He saw the dress rip and so was aware that I was not just hanging around the street in my pants, waiting for business. What was it about the incident that made him think it would be an appropriate time to suggest I gave him a blow job?! Seriously. At least he offered to pay, I guess.

Anyway, after using some ‘sign language’ of my own, I made it very clear that this would NOT be happening. EVER. I then set off home with my underwear on display and my dignity (and dress) in tatters. Cycling home through Hanoi, I attracted a lot of unwanted attention and just as I was confident that the journey couldn’t get any worse, one of the very few people I actually know in this new city pulled up beside me at the traffic lights (on a motorbike of course, dammit). Noticing the horror on his face, I proceeded to make polite conversation while he awkwardly attempted to divert his eyes, speeding off before I had a chance to explain the situation.

I had no choice but to wave him goodbye and continue the journey home in my underwear. Despite being one of the most embarrassing journeys of my life, I did see the funny side and cycled home with tears of laughter streaming down my face!

I still haven’t graduated to my own motorbike yet but I have learned my lesson – maxi dresses and bicycles DO NOT mix.

Here is picture evidence from that fateful day. I can’t quite believe I am posting a picture of myself with my ass out on the internet but I feel it tops off the story nicely.

I am the kind of person who finds it very difficult to just ‘be’. Just exist and be happy. It is a frustrating truth that I am always thinking, ‘what’s next’. In some ways, I suppose this kind of attitude can be attributed to successful people, always striving to achieve more. In other ways, it is the attitude of a perpetually unfulfilled person, always striving to feel content. Needing more than they have.

I am not sure which category I fall into.

If I’m honest, I have been planning my next move since I first arrived here. Not satisfied with achieving my long-standing goal of living and working in Vietnam, I have been guilty of trying to put time limits on everything from the start. “How long will I stay here for?” “When should I think about booking a flight to X, Y or Z”, and so on. This is something I have longed to do for years and now that I was actually here, living it, doing it, I couldn’t help but always be looking forward to the next thing.

The way my brain works, I always feel like I have to be planning my next move. Working towards something else.

I did consider leaving Hanoi earlier and going to Australia to pursue my current career in TV. But as I had finally come to a decision to book my flight to leave in August, I started to doubt myself and all of a sudden I was overcome with love for this city. The air seemed clearer, the traffic less dangerous, the people more friendly and the beer suddenly colder.

It’s a bad habit I have, and a common one I’m sure, to always wonder if the grass will be greener.

I wonder… Is the grass greener over there?

After lots of thinking and planning, I decided that I would stay in Hanoi to work as a teacher, rather than applying for an Australian working visa. I’m glad that I made this decision as I think that leaving earlier would have been a mistake.

Working here as a teacher, it is more than feasible to work very part time hours and still make enough to money to survive on comfortably. In fact, 20 hours per week is considered to be a ‘full time’ role. I work about 10, and that is enough to survive on.

Being here has given me the time and freedom to do things that I always wanted to but never seemed to get round to doing at home. I was always too tired to go to the gym and could never find the time to do any writing. Since arriving in Hanoi, I have taken up dance classes, pilates and started writing on a daily basis.

Yet, rather than fully immerse myself in this lifestyle for the duration of my stay, I have spent a lot of my time thinking about ‘what’s next?’ I have never had so much freedom and, just as I prepare to leave, I have come to realise that I will probably never have it this easy again. So, my time in Hanoi is now coming to an end and while part of me wishes that I had been more decisive in the start and spent less time planning my next move, I am mainly just very excited about the travel plans that await me.

So, what is next?!

Well, the timing has worked out perfectly and next week I will fly from Hanoi to Hong Kong where I will meet one of my very best friends, at Hong Kong airport. Our flights land about 30 minutes apart and it’s going to be an emotional reunion. I’m talking movie montage style: slow motion, arms spread, running through the airport towards one another and throwing ourselves dramatically into a long-overdue embrace. At least that’s what I’m hoping for. Something along the lines of this:

No pressure.

Anyway, after spending a few days in Hong Kong, we have three and a half weeks to travel China. From there, Laura is going to Australia to work for six months and I will go to visit for four weeks and do some traveling. After this part of the journey is over, I return to Vietnam to say my final goodbyes before heading back to Scotland.

As much as I will be sad to close the page on this chapter, I am incredibly excited to start the next. I have always dreamed of visiting Hong Kong and I can’t wait to cuddle some pandas in Chengdu! To visit the Great Wall of China will be incredible and driving the Great Ocean Road in Australia is one to tick off my bucket list. The fact that I get to do it with one of my favourite people in the world is equally amazing.

It will be strange to be on the road with a new travel buddy. John, my boyfriend, is staying here to finish up working in Hanoi. We have spent practically every single day together this year and it will be interesting to travel with someone else. I just hope Laura can put up with my sleep talking, ridiculously bad sense of direction and embarrassingly low tolerance of local spirits.

What not so long ago, seemed like an endless year stretching out in front of me, is fast coming to an end. But before then there will be lots more to come on the China and Australia leg of the adventure. Watch this space.

If anyone has any recommendations or suggestions for traveling in China and/or Australia, I would love to hear them! Are there any places I shouldn’t miss?

“It was as if they turned on a faucet. One day it started raining, and it didn’t quit for four months. We been through every kind of rain there is. Little bitty stingin’ rain… and big ol’ fat rain. Rain that flew in sideways. And sometimes rain even seemed to come straight up from underneath.”

Quote from Forrest Gump, describing the rain in Vietnam during the war.

Thankfully, rainy season hasn’t hit us that hard. (And we’re not fighting in the war like Forrest was, so actually there’s a lot to be thankful for). That said, the wet season is well and truly upon us in Hanoi.

It’s times like this you need a submarine…

Considering that Vietnam is a country with a tropical monsoon climate and the rainy season officially runs from May to October, up until now, we had gotten off very lightly. The rain fall over the past few months (except from one particularly wild storm) has seemed to be almost considerate in nature; falling mainly during the night, leaving the air fresh and cool(er) for waking up in the morning. Showers have been intermittent and broken up nicely by sunny spells and even consecutively sunny days, with no rain to be seen.

When the rain has fallen, it hasn’t proved to be too much of an inconvenience for me. Usually miraculously stopping just before I leave to cycle for work and often falling lightly enough that it has still been pleasurable to walk to the nearest café or go for a swim outdoors. There is something enjoyably refreshing about swimming in the rain when the air is warm and tropical.

Yes, it’s fair to say that rainy season hasn’t been as awful as I expected. In fact, the first heavy rain storm that I experienced in Vietnam was nothing short of joyous. We were out on the motorbike when some particularly menacing thunder and lightning began to crash and roar above us, before the heavens proceeded to open up on to the streets of Hanoi. It was coming down in sheets; so heavy that we had to stop the bike but instead of seeking shelter, I laughed like a maniac and stood under the torrents of falling rain, mouth wide open, arms stretched out, looking up at the angry sky above us. It was magical.

John watching the storm outside

The novelty has now worn off, although there is still something nice about walking about in the rain wearing shorts, T-Shirt and flip flops as opposed to the wellies and waterproofs of Scotland (flip flops are the only shoes that withstand the constant soaking, my gladiator sandals that I had custom-made in Hoi An have, sadly, been destroyed).

While there have been wet days from the beginning of June onward, August and September are officially the wettest months. August saw tropical storm ‘Jebi’ flood Hoan Kiem Lake and the neighboring Old Quarter. September has now arrived and the rain is here in full force. It is only six days in to the month but this week seems to have lasted forever. It has rained constantly and while the significantly colder air provides welcome respite from the usual humidity levels, I am starting to feel like it may never stop.

I can’t help but be impressed by how unfazed the Vietnamese seem by the rainy season. They are nothing short of resilient and continue about their day to day life as normal. Bearing in mind that over 90% of the population use motorbikes as their primary source of transport, there really isn’t any shelter available for their commute to work. But they wear their ponchos with pride and carry on regardless.

Going about daily life

The Vietnamese way of life is very much an outdoors one. Everything takes place on the street, from food shopping, to socializing, to eating to rearing livestock. (Unfortunately, at times, this even includes going to the toilet. Something I dread to think about while traipsing through the flooded streets, blind to what may be floating about). While the rain falls punishingly, day to day life generally goes unaffected. Aside from assembling some make shift shelters in the form of a tarpaulin on stilts to cover any seated areas, outdoor life carries on.

While this week has been particularly grim weather wise, rainy season isn’t all bad. In fact, there are some positive aspects of the wet weather; mainly revolving around the fact that it gives you an excuse to spend time doing things you would normally feel slightly guilty about.

Things to do during Rainy Season:

1. Eat cake. And lots of it.

In Hanoi, the colonial French influence on the food has left its mark and it is impossibly hard to avoid the numerous bakeries and pastry shops. Particularly when it’s raining. My body seems programmed to crave cake when it rains (well, not just when it rains but it kind of seems justified in the bad weather?). Chocolate tartes, cream donuts, waffles, baked cheesecake and perfect croissants are available all over the city and when the rain falls, I head instinctively towards one of the many delicious bakeries to eat cake. Lots of cake.

2. Drink beer.

Alternatively to eating cake (or indeed, before, during and after) drinking beer is an inevitable choice when it is too wet to do much else. Bia Hoi (locally brewed fresh beer) is literally cheaper than water here. It would be rude not to.

3. Read lots of books.

Photocopy, of course…

I love reading but somehow always manage to make myself feel guilty for spending time during the day just reading. For some reason, the rain makes it feel justified. I am currently reading ‘The Subtle Knife’, book number two in the ‘His Dark Materials’ trilogy by Philip Pullman. I can’t get enough and have got the third installment waiting to go when I finish this. Other books that have seen me through the rainy season include ‘The Great Gatsby’ by F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Quiet American’ by Graham Greene (standard Vietnam reading), ‘Gone Girl’ by Gillian Flynn (highly recommended – what a twist!) and ‘The Universe versus Alex Woods’ by Gavin Extence (brilliant, I cried and laughed the whole way through).

4. Kiss a stranger*

The Notebook (worst film EVER)

If you’ve always wanted to re-enact a dramatic kissing scene in the rain, now is your chance. Chances are, it will be dramatic. Possibly not in the way you dreamed of.

*Disclaimer: this may, or may not, get you arrested.

5. Watch Breaking Bad.

This was my ‘go to’ activity but I am now up to date with Series 5 and have to wait a week for each episode to air. Alternative box set recommendations for a rainy day include: Game of Thrones (obviously), Mad Men, The Walking Dead, Boardwalk Empire and Dexter.

6. Go swimming. Outdoors.

See above. It feels amazing.

7. Listen to music.

One thing I really miss about Scotland is the music. While the Vietnamese government does its best to ban social networking sights and BBC News, You Tube seems safe enough. For now. Thank the lord.

Here’s a song from one of my favourite new Scottish acts.

8. Take up a new hobby, or rediscover an old one…

While in Vietnam, I have rediscovered my love of writing, something I never seemed to find the time for at home. Rainy season comes complete with stints indoors and this is the perfect time to learn that language you’re always talking about, hone your guitar playing skills, start practising yoga or take up candle making (probably not this one…although it is a handy skill for power cuts).

(Reminder to self: online shopping doesn’t count as a hobby).

9. Go to an indoor water park.

Vincom Royal City shopping mall has just opened up in Hanoi and it comes complete with cinema, ice skating rink and indoor water park. There are also lots of cafes providing plenty of opportunities to fulfill number one on this list. Mmmm cake…

10. Go surfing. Yes, you heard me.

Making the most of the rain!

11. Go fishing in the street. That’s right.

Fishing – just be careful, you never know what might be floating in the streets of Hanoi….

12. Take a leaf out of Gene Kelly’s book.

Embrace the rain!

Singing in the Rain!

12. Rain? What rain?

Learn a lesson from the locals’, suit up in your finest poncho, tie stools to your feet (bear with me…) and continue with your life as normal. A little flooding never hurt anyone.

It can be very difficult to locate wellington boots in Hanoi… never fear! This man has the answer!

Don’t let a little rain stop you from playing local game, ‘Co’ tu’o’ng’… with a few beers of course!

Teaching English in Vietnam is fantastic and I would recommend it without hesitation. There are an abundance of jobs and the standard hourly rate is $20 per hour, often higher. In a country with such low living costs, this sort of wage can provide you with an excellent standard of living.

Despite this, when first arriving in Vietnam, I was worried that it wasn’t for me. Being honest, it can be a bit of a culture shock initially and despite loving the country, I was skeptical about actually setting up a life here. It seemed unthinkable that I would be able to find a job, flat and new friends, all in a culture so very different from home.

I can now honestly say that I have fallen in love with the place, warts and all. There are so many different opportunities that I truly believe there is something to suit everyone. Whether you are looking for short term work to extend your travel in South East Asia, or want to set up a long term career in teaching, you should definitely consider Vietnam as a location.

Practising for the school show!

Interested, but still not sure if it’s for you? Have a read of this guide I wrote, for TEFL Jobs World.

This quote has become something of a cliché but I genuinely think it’s something we should keep in the forefront of our minds, every day. If you really consider the meaning, it is more exciting than any other gift we could be given. If you are not happy, do something about it. Any dreams or aspirations you have, don’t put them off any longer. As hinted at in the title of this blog, I am very guilty of procrastinating in most aspects of my life and it really is a terrible characteristic to uphold.

As humans, our mortality is hard (if not impossible) to fathom but we really do only live once. This IS it. We are only getting older and with each second that passes we are missing out on wasted opportunities.

Finally making the move to come over here and do the travelling and teaching that I have wanted to do for years has made me realise, that actually, it is easy to do what you want to do. You just have to do it.